


Never Enough

by frerardestiel



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Emotional Constipation, Feels, Future Fic, M/M, POV Derek, Post Season 2, because Stiles is already in college, no spoilers tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-23
Updated: 2013-01-23
Packaged: 2017-11-26 14:47:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,552
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/651480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frerardestiel/pseuds/frerardestiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time it happens, Stiles just got home from a party and he smells like booze and smoke and youth and that undertone that's just Stiles' happiness and Derek can't say no, not when Stiles is there and he's smiling at Derek with those big dark eyes and those lips.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Enough

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work in the Teen Wolf fandom. This show is basically ruling my life, I love it too much to be healthy, but I don't really care because have you seen the actors? Also, Stiles and Derek make me happy.
> 
> This is unbetaed because I woke up at 7 am with a sudden urge to write this fic and I couldn't help myself I had to grab my phone and just go for it. I just hope there aren't too many serious mistakes, but tell me if you find something scary and I'll fix it :D
> 
> I blame Of Monsters And Men's album, for this. The feels that band gives me.

Derek knows this is wrong. But he can't stop now. Not now.

*

The first time it happens, Stiles just got home from a party and he smells like booze and smoke and youth and that undertone that's just Stiles' happiness and Derek can't say no, not when Stiles is there and he's smiling at Derek with those big dark eyes and those lips.

Derek kisses him back when Stiles goes up to him and pulls him in, he opens his mouth to Stiles' tongue and lets his arms close around him. Derek can't say no and when Stils pulls his shirt up, Derek just looks at him, at his pretty face and pink lips and lets it happen; when they fuck he can't stop, he pushes and moans and bites and licks every inch of Stiles he can reach, he looks and pants and he dreads that moment because he can feel his control slipping away from him but, at the same time, he feels good, he feels like never before and he doesn't want to think about what that could mean, he just bends down over Stiles and kisses his moans away.

*

The second time, they're alone in Stiles' house. The Sheriff is working a double shift and Derek ended up in front of the Stilinki's house even before he knew it.

Derek looks up at the house, his wolf inside of him happy and excited, and he feels like he's going to be sick. He can't be here. This is wrong, so wrong. The lights are on inside, and Derek knows Stiles is watching something on TV because he can hear voices and noises and he needs to get out of here before it's too late, so he takes a step back, ready to leave, when the front door opens and Stiles is there, smiling at him.

"Ehy, Derek. Wanna come in for a beer?"

Derek doesn't even ask how Stiles knew he was there, he straightens up and goes in.

They end up fucking in Stiles' bed, surrounded by his smell and his things and Stiles, Stiles, Stiles.

*

Derek feels like everything he ever known's been taken away from him. He never felt this way before, he never felt like he was burning up from the inside, not like this, not even during the full moon. When he's with Stiles it's like he's still a young wolf that's just trying to learn what control is; he wants to take and mark and make his; he wants to sniff and bite and make Stiles shiver and moan, he wants to look at him and find him looking right back, he wants to be inside of him and never leave, and this terrifies him because Derek doesn't have feelings, ever. Feelings mean you're weak. And an Alpha can't be weak. An Alpha must be strong and cold blooded and Stiles makes him feel like he could melt and crawl right inside of his body and Derek wants it, he wants it so bad.

When Stiles smiles and opens his legs, Derek trembles and closes his eyes, the feeling of Stiles' hands in his hair and his breath on Derek's face is nearly impossible to stand without crumbling, without breaking into a million little pieces.

"Derek," Stiles' voice is breathy and rough and Derek opens his eyes and stares at him and he feels his eyes water, he doesn't know why, and he's afraid he's going to cry (if he was a man who cried, he probably would've and this is just wrong) and his blood runs cold and his heart starts beating faster and faster like when Stiles is freaking out and having a panic attack and he knows that if Stiles was a wolf, he could've smelled his fear and the bitter smell of dread and fresh sweat. But maybe Stiles doesn't need to be a wolf to understand him, to know what's going on in his head; he never did.

"Derek?" he says, looking up at him with hands fisted in Derek's hair and his legs tight around Derek's hips, so tight it's almost bruising. "Ehy Derek, it's okay. It's okay."

Derek tries to breath again, but he finds his troath is closed and he squirms, growling, eyes wide.

"Don't do that," Stiles whispers and Derek can't not look at him again, always. "You need to calm down a little, look, breathe with me, like this," and Derek feels more than sees when Stiles takes a deep breath, his chest expanding under his. He does it, he looks at him and breathes, slowly, almost painfully and he feels weaker than ever, but Stiles just stays there, warm and naked and pliable under Derek and Derek closes his eyes again and tips his head down until his lips brush against Stiles'.

"Yeah," Stiles whispers and Derek nods.

When they fuck, Derek breathes every sound, noise, breath, gaze in.

*

Derek knows this is wrong. He knows it in the same way he knows he can't trust Peter, even after all these months; in the same exact way he knows that Stiles is too much: too young, too talkative, too good, too important.

They always end up together. They always spend the nights and every single free moment in each other's arms, and Derek is starting to warm up to Stiles words and mouth and long libs; he's starting to understand him in ways he never wanted to, he never even thought about; he's starting to understand when Stiles's smiling at him or joking or when he's using sarcasm to defend himself from the world, from the way Derek is.

*

When Stiles comes back home from college for summer break smelling like flowers and sugar and like another person's smell, Derek grits his teeth against the feeling of his wolf trying to get free so he could mark Stiles all over again, and just breathes shallowy, all too much to handle right now. He doesn't think that Stiles' shouldn't smell that way. He doesn't.

He knew that what he and Stiles had was just fun, something they kind of fell in without even knowing it, it isn't like it was anything serious. Derek knows it.

Stiles has a girlfriend now, or at least is seeing someone right now, because he always smells flowery and too sweet and not at all like Derek remembers, and Dereks always growls at him everytime Stiles gets too close to him. He doesn't want to act that way, he doesn't want Stiles to think he's being an asshole because he's hurt, because Stiles mattered, because Stiles never did, never, but his wolf is howling and making him snap and growl and generally making him look like he could kill someone if they only looked at him funny, and he could... He really could, and his patience is running short. And he can't stand the way Stiles seems to be looking at him, always; Derek can't run a pack meeting without feeling like he's two seconds away from breaking a table in half, he can't train with the Betas without feeling Stiles's eyes on his back; he feels trapped in his own skin, in his house, in this town, and Derek wants to slam Stiles against a wall and eat him alive.

*

"You're such an asshole, you know that?"

Derek sighs and rolls his eyes, because of course he's running into Stiles in the middle of the street. He closes the door of the car a little more forcefully than he should, and then leans against it, facing Stiles and his pissed off expression.

"What do you want, Stiles?" Derek says, "I don't have time for this."

"Yeah, no shit," Stiles shoots back immediately and then squirms from foot to foot, his body thrumming with energy and smelling like anger, bitter, ashy, a smell that makes Derek think of his house, of himself, of his life, and he's getting angry, too, because Stiles can't barge into his life and mess it up everytime he wants.

Derek stares at him, scowling.

"Say something! Anything!" Stiles yells, his arms flailing around and his cheeks a shy shade of pink. Derek hates him.

"What do you want from me, Stiles?" Derek says again, taking a step forward, making Stiles gasp and stumble back before he regains his footing and glares back at Derek; always the same idiot, Derek thinks, he doesn't even fear him anymore, like he should.

"I want you to treat me like I'm a person and not a piece of furniture!" Stiles shouts, almost pushing Derek with his hands, but not quite making it, and Derek can see that people are starting to stare and look and he can't do this here, in the middle of the street, in plain light, not now, not ever.

"Shut up and get in the car, Stiles," Derek growls and Stiles squeaks, affronted, and Derek sees him open his mouth like he's going to yell at him some more, so he grabs him and hauls him inside the car, Stiles' flailing limbs and his smell of fear, anger, surprise and something else Derek can't pinpoint, filling up the car entirely.

Derek closes the door and starts the car, without even waiting for Stiles to get seated. Stiles's sputtering and straightening his clothes up, trembling and cold.

"This is you kidnapping me, I could call my dad and get you arrested." Stiles says, glowering at him and Derek tightens his grip on the steering wheel, or else he's going to strangle him in the next five seconds.

"It wouldn't be the first time," Derek mutters and he can totally _feel_ Stiles's rolling his eyes. Whatever.

"That story again? Listen, I already said I'm sorry, it was a mistake but you know you look like you, with all that brooding and the black leather - I'd say you look like a douche, but okay, also there. Was. A. Dead. Body. In. Your. Property. What do you think I was going to do? Leave it there? Hello, Sheriff's son here." Stiles singsongs, waving his hands around and making Derek regret ever picking him up, Jesus Christ. "And Scott was there, too. Why is this always my fault?"

Derek shoots him a look and Stiles sighs.

"Yeah, okay, point."

They stay in silence for a few minuets, Derek tense and angry and Stiles pissed off and nervous, jittery, his knees bouncing up and down and basically making Derek feel like he's going to chop his own arm off if he doesn't stop now.

"Look," Derek says, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose, "Whatever this is, I can't do it now."

Stiles is silent for a while, looking out of the window, and Derek didn't know he could stay for such a long time without even trying to make a noise. But Derek knows that Stiles is thinking, is getting angrier; he can feel it, his smell is even more intense, his heart is stammering and deafening in the silence of the car.

"You mean you can't talk right now, or you can't have this," he gestures between them with a hand without even taking his eyes off the window, " _us_ , now?"

Derek grits his teeth and tries to keep his wolf at bay.

"I just can't." He only says.

Stiles makes a frustrated noise and puts his face in his hands, curling up on himself and making Derek fingers tighten, his own body seize up.

"Fuck!" Stiles exclaims, "Fuck! Fuck everything! Fuck you!" he goes on, his voice shot and rough and too wet for Derek's liking. "I don't even know why I'm still here, why I'm still trying. I thought this time was different, but no, this is the story of my life. Fuck."

Derek wants to stop him, and ask him things, and hold him and take care of him; he wants to tell him to calm down and to breathe because Stiles is having a panic attack in the middle of the woods, in Derek's car and Derek's freaking out because he can't let it happen, so he stops the car and he turns to Stiles, he grabs his hands where Stiles is gripping his shirt and his hair and scratching his face and neck; and Derek sees the tears in Stiles' eyes, like he's on the edge of freaking down for real and cry. He can't let it happen, he can't.

"Stiles, look at me," Derek commands with his alpha voice, "calm down and look at me, listen to me."

Stiles makes a noise in the back of his troath, like he's going to protest or something, and Derek shakes his head, gripping him harder. Stiles' eyes are gazing at his face like he just wants to look at Derek without stopping to stare at anything in particular, like he can't help himself and needs to just look at everything at once. He's making Derek feel dizzy.

"I," Stiles croaks, shivering and pale, and Derek can't resist, he leans in, towards him, "I'm never enough," he says and Derek closes his eyes at those words because he can't look at Stiles right then. "Everybody always leave me," he whispers and Derek feels a pang in his chest, he wants to say no, it's not true, you're the most important to me, but Stiles is still speaking, his words landing right on Derek's lips and they burn like fire.

"I'm just a stupid human and I'm never strong enough, never pretty enough, never smart enough,"

"Stiles, shut up," Derek growls and pushes his lips against Stiles' mouth, swallowing his words, his noises, his doubts. Stiles gasps and opens up for him immediately,clutching at Derek's clothes, face, hair, kissing right back with a force that's making Derek sweat and moan and lick into his mouth, wanting to taste, to claim, to mark, to make his. His. His.

"Stiles," Derek whispers, and it feels like a confession, like a secret and Stiles shivers under his touch, when Derek clibs over him, between his legs and in his arms. Derek knows this is still wrong, so wrong, he doesn't deserve Stiles, perfect, smart, beautiful, perfect Stiles, but he can't stop now. Not now. Not when Stiles is taking both ot their clothes off, and kissing Derek right back and looking at him with this expression like... Wonder and warmth and maybe, love, maybe not, but his eyes are shining bright in the sunlight and they are this pretty gold colour, like fire, like Derek's nightmares, but for the first time in years he doesn't feel like he's going to die enveloped in flames and screams; he feels safe, wanted, loved.

Stiles is his, he smiles and lets Derek in, as always; lets Derek touch him and kiss him and look at him: he lets Derek breathe him in, his smell and his moans and his breaths. He cluthes at Derek and kisses him and whispers secrets only Derek can know, like " _yes, right there_ ," like " _stay here_ ," and " _don't leave me_ ," or " _take me with you_ ," and " _yours_ ," when Derek murmurs _mine_ against his lips.

And for the first time, he grips Stiles just as tight and comes with his tongue in his mouth, and Stiles' fluttery heartbeat against hisown.

And he's not afraid.


End file.
